


Next Time, We're Going to Disney Planet

by sidewinder



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Canon-Typical Silliness, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: John and Gordon go on shore leave. It doesn't go well.





	Next Time, We're Going to Disney Planet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



“This is great, Gordon. Just _great_.” John sunk onto the bench in their small, sterile holding cell with a frustrated sigh. “This is _exactly_ how I planned to spend the first week of shore leave I’ve gotten in the last six months... _not!_ ”

“Oh, like this is all _my_ fault? You think I wanted to end up getting stabbed again?! On a planet where medical technology is like...at least a century behind Union standards?” Gordon thrust out his bandaged arm in John’s direction. “Stitches, of all things! _Stitches_! I’m going to be scarred for life!”

“Aw man, stop whining. You know Dr. Finn will have that smoothed out in no time, once we’re back on the ship. If I hadn’t pushed that dude, he would’ve knifed you right in the heart. And then you’d be _dead_ instead of merely wounded _._ All because you never know when to keep your big mouth shut.”

“Says the man who almost got his brain fried last year for humping a statue.” Gordon pulled his arm back and cradled it close to his chest. “All I tried to do was tell that guy he might want to get that oozing purple bulge on his forehead looked at by a doctor. How was I supposed to know that I was insulting a Naotovian male’s genitals? I mean...who’d want to walk around with their genitals out on display on their forehead, anyway?”

“Considering you can be a walking dick when you’re shit-face drunk…” John replied, to which Gordon rolled his eyes before falling into a silent sulk.

Seriously, though, their current predicament really did suck ass. Since his promotion to head of engineering, John had barely had more than a day of rest at a time on board the Orville. He’d been working so hard to prove himself and get things running smoother, more efficiently, that he’d been unable to enjoy any decent r-and-r.

Hell, he hardly had the energy most nights to spend any quality time with Gordon. The frequency with which they got to enjoy—as Bortus called it and which they’d picked up with glee—the “sexual event” had dropped to a frustratingly low frequency.

So when the chance for some overdue shore leave came John’s way, while the Orville would be spending two weeks playing host to a science team doing some kind of boring science thing on a boring mining planet, he’d rushed to put in his request for time off. With Gordon, of course, because it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun without him.

...Or so he’d thought.

Cheibos was one of the most popular pleasure planets in this arm of the galaxy. The planet’s inhabitants dedicated themselves to creating and nurturing environments enjoyable to as many Union-affiliated species as possible. There were long sandy beaches, some busy with activities and fancy resorts while others were rustic and quiet. There were mountain ranges always coated in fluffy snow perfect for skiing, snowboarding and other sports. There were clean and safe, sparkling cities in the air, on the ground, and under the sea each filled with entertainment and gaming excitement. Heck, there was even the galaxy’s largest known ball pit. Whether one came to relax, to seek thrills, or to enjoy a romantic getaway, Cheibos truly was paradise for all.

And its architects did everything in their power to keep it that way.

Disturbances to the peace on Cheibos were _strictly_ prohibited, and punishable by swift removal from the world. No theft, no vandalism. No littering. No screaming matches between lovers, friends or family which might interrupt someone else’s vacation. No insulting the staff at any local establishment. And for Avis’ sake, no bar room brawls between drunk guests of any species whatsoever.

As such, Gordon and John had found themselves dispatched from the planet’s surface to an orbiting space station-slash-prison, where they were now awaiting pick-up by a shuttle from the Orville.

 _“But that Naotovian attacked me! He tried to kill me!”_ Gordon had insisted to the peace officer leading them to their cells.

 _“And he is also being escorted off planet. Along with all others who participated in the disturbance,”_ the officer had replied in a matter-of-fact fashion.

 _“Hey, all I did was cheer on the red-haired Earthling!”_ a Retepsian had chimed in, also being led away under guard. The bar owner had not exactly been pleased about blue goo being sprayed all over his establishment.

_“Encouraging the disturbance of the peace is a crime on Cheibos. We appreciate your understanding. Please enjoy your stay in our climate controlled detention facility. We will provide food and sanitation until you arrange your expedited departure transportation.”_

John shook his head at the absurd stupidity of it all. But then he looked over at Gordon, still sulking, and he couldn’t be or stay mad at him. “Look, man, I’m just glad you’re okay, y’know? Seriously. This universe can get crazy sometimes. Wouldn’t want something to happen to my best buddy.”

“Same here, bro.” Gordon put his good arm around John’s shoulders. “We’ve still got the simulator back on the ship, so we can try out hang-gliding over the Drakah Valley of Cheibos there.”

“Would be safer for us,” John agreed. “And next shore leave? We’re going to Disney Planet instead.”

“Eh, _you_ can go. I’ll stay on ship,” Gordon said, frowning.

“Why? What’s the matter with Disney Planet?”

Gordon shrugged. “It’s creepy. I don’t know. I’ve always found Disney stuff creepy. Plus I hear they’re even _worse_ than the Cheibosians about staying on good behavior. Especially when it comes to booze and drugs.”

“Shit. Forgot about that. Yeah, screw Disney.”

“Rather be screwing you.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, leaning a little further into Gordon. “I would definitely rather you be doin’ that.” The lean-in turned into a kiss, slow and gentle, at first. “Think they got cameras in this room?” John asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck.”

“But what’re they gonna do? Kick us off the planet, again?”

John was contemplating that, while continuing to let Gordon kiss him and play with the collar of his shirt. But then an unexpected coughing interrupted them.

Both men pulled apart and turned to find their chief of security staring at them, her expression cycling between embarrassment, annoyance and amusement.

“Lieutenant!” Gordon began, straightening himself out.

“Boys. Do I want to know the specifics as to _why_ I had to come bail you out of jail two nights into your shore leave?”

“No” and “Definitely not” they answered in unison.

“Thought as much.” She sighed. “So do you think you can keep it in your pants at least until we get back to the ship?”

“Pants well secured, Lieutenant,” John said.

“For now,” Gordon whispered under his breath, and then winked at John.

John couldn’t wait until “later.”

 


End file.
